


Icarus

by cinderlily, sly_fck



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Break Up, Fix-It, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-23
Updated: 2016-02-23
Packaged: 2018-05-22 19:58:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6092305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cinderlily/pseuds/cinderlily, https://archiveofourown.org/users/sly_fck/pseuds/sly_fck
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shane and Mike had been a not-thing for so long that it was almost easy enough to let it be the way it was. Until Mike realized that he couldn't do it that way anymore, and Shane was given a rude awakening.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Temporary Bliss

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LuciFern](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LuciFern/gifts), [freetodream5](https://archiveofourown.org/users/freetodream5/gifts).



> The first part "Temporary Bliss" was written by sly_fck, who then passed it to cinderlily and said "I broke Mike and Shane, wanna read?" where cinderlily went "I MUST FIX IT", which is where the second part came from.

"Temporary Bliss"

I can't keep sleepin' in your bed  
If you keep messin' with my head  
I can't keep feelin' love like this  
It's not worth temporary bliss

Mike stared down at his messy bed, sheets shoved half off one way while his comforter somehow was off the other side. Shane had been gone again when he’d woken up this morning. Not that Mike was even surprised by it anymore. Mike had had sex with his captain more times than he could count at this point. In more places, even. On the road, at home. Never Shane’s home. Never Shane’s room. The thing Shane was careful about was never to have it be a place he’d been forced to kick Mike out of. He wasn’t careful with Mike’s heart, but he hadn’t gone full rogue asshole yet, either. Mike shook his head at himself. This is was why he was starting to resent Shane. 

Every time left him feeling used. And alone. Shane had no interest in being more than occasional, very sporadic fuck buddies. He’d made that more than clear the one and only time Mike had made the mistake of asking Shane to come visit in the off-season. That summer two years ago had been brutal and torturous. And the looks the team’s old guard had given him when they’d started camp and Shane had avoided him like he had the plague? Yeah. That had been a _great_ time. 

Why and how he’d talked his way back into Shane’s bed he didn’t know. It wasn’t like this less-than-half-assed relationship was any better. Maybe two years ago he’d been able to lie to himself and tell himself that the temporary bliss was worth it. That being in Shane’s arms even for a few hours was worth this stabbing, empty feeling in his chest now. Shane had no reason to be gone this early in the morning. They had an off day. No practices or video reviews. They didn’t even have to be at the arena until late the next evening for warming up pre-game.

Mike stood there in his bedroom naked and feeling cold for entirely different reasons before turning away from the bed altogether and heading for the shower. As he stood under the water, spray turned as hot as he could stand it. He stood there and left the water beat down his shoulders, head hanging forward and curls dripping into his face. He idly thought about a haircut but didn’t really want to go out and face anyone today. That was probably more reason to do it than not though.Maybe he could call Boeds, go out and meet for lunch or something instead of sitting in his condo feeling sorry for himself for a situation he kept voluntarily putting himself in. It wasn’t like Shane was forcing anything, or taking advantage.

Mike straightened and nodded. He’d get a haircut and see about lunch out. Feeling a little better with a plan in mind, he got back into washing and finished up quickly. Once he was dried off and dressed he called his usual barber and got himself squeezed into an early appointment slot. He texted Boeds as he got to the parking garage, unlocking his car. _’Are you awake yet? ___

___**’Fuck off, it’s our day off.’** _ _ _

__Mike laughed at the cranky response and left it alone for now, concentrated on driving around the crazyass Phoenix drivers. He’d never lived in a place with worse drivers, he’d swear to it. About 25 minutes later, as he was parking he got another text, this one much nicer than the last._ _

___**’Alright, fucker, I’m up. What’s going on?’** _ _ _

__Mike shrugged to himself, upper body bopping along to one of his favorite songs on the radio as he replied. _’I’m getting a haircut now but it won’t take long. I’m on my own today and wondered if you wanted to grab lunch?’__ _

__It didn’t take long for a response. _ **’I thought the Captain followed you home last night.’**__ _

__Well, fuck. Mike tensed up all over and his right shoulder, that had been shoved into the post by an opposing player last night screamed at him but he couldn’t stop himself. Shit. Shane wasn’t going to be happy if the guys on the team were paying attention to how often he was “following Mike home”. _’That doesn’t make me any less alone today. It’s cool. It was just a last minute thought. Enjoy your day off, bud. Say hi to Olie for me.’_ Mike forced himself to act normal, to type the answering text even though his hands were shaking and he could feel the sting of tears in his eyes. That’s all he needed to do was start crying over his fucking Captain._ _

__

__Again._ _

__~*~_ _

__Mike had shoved his phone into his pocket after putting it on silent (and making sure the vibrate function was off). If anyone needed him they could wait the goddamn half an hour or less the haircut would take. He greeted Jose, the guy he’d been coming to since moving to Phoenix, and they exchanged their usual small talk. Jose talked about how his fiance was driving him up the wall with wedding plans but all Mike could think about was how much he’d kill to have anyone who wanted to marry him enough to drive him crazy with wedding plans but he put on a smile and teased his friend over colors and flowers and shit._ _

__Jose talked him into going pretty short but letting the curls on top stay longer and fall at more of an angle. He did have to admit it looked pretty sharp and would look nice gelled or straightened into submission as well. He paid the man and walked out into the bright sunshine. 80 degree weather and they’d be playing a hockey game tomorrow night. He shook his head. It was a pretty sweet deal, this non-traditional hockey market thing. Even if they did take so much crap for it. He finally gave in and pulled his phone out, checking his texts._ _

_____**’Shit, that doesn’t sound good.’** _  
_**’Mike?’** _  
_**’Sorry. I won’t bring it up if you don’t want but I am your friend if you need to talk about it, you know?’** _  
_**’Look, can you just text me back? Now I’m worrying about your ass. And yeah, lunch would be good. Where?’** _  
_**’Seriously? TEXT ME BACK.’** _

__Mike snorted out a laugh at the unexpected amount of concern. He knew they were friends. Bonding over all the talk of trades that should be made and how they weren’t as good for the team as they thought they were that the hockey blogs liked to trash talk about them. It had surprised him how close they’d gotten actually, as Mikkel’s contract extension had continued to not happen. With Mike’s unexpected injury this year too. Well. Things were moving on schedule for him. He’d been cleared for his PT and some physical activity. Thus the mistake of last night with Shane. Fuck. Okay, he wasn’t thinking about it anymore._ _

___’Okay, I want Sushi, usual place? Olie can come too if he wants.’_ Mike knew it probably wasn’t fair to steal Olie’s boyfriend on one of their rare days off even if he was alone and bored. He could third wheel it with the best of them though._ _

___**’You’re an ass. Olie says YES. So looks like Sushi it is. Meet you there in 20.’** _ _ _

__Mike grinned and went to get in his car, after stopping to sign an autograph for a fan. It was a nice little thrill to get recognized in Phoenix since it happened so rarely so he took the pick me up and headed towards the team’s favorite sushi place._ _

__~*~_ _

__“Mikey!” Mike turned his head, name being called out before he could do more than smile politely at the hostess, Olie was grinning and waving and Mikkel was just smirking. Mike rolled his own eyes but walked over. He slid in the seat of the booth across from the and laughed as Mikkel kicked him, gently, under the table._ _

__“Sorry. In my defense I was getting my hair cut.” Mike rubbed a hand over the back of his head and was shocked and touch starved enough to lean into the hand Oliver ran over the side, short hairs buzzing over their fingertips. He looked down at the tabletop as he felt himself flush and cleared his throat. When he looked back up Oliver had leaned back and was checking his phone faking nonchalant fairly well while Mikkel gave Mike a hard look._ _

__“Are you okay?” Mikkel crossed his arms on the table and leaned forward, giving the attempt at privacy for the question as Oliver continued to ignore them. Mike appreciated the sentiment even if it was ridiculous to think Oliver wasn’t listening to every word. “It’s not like they take your phone away. You were ignoring it. Ignoring me, ass.”_ _

__Mike half smiled. “Yeah. Sorry. I just.” Mike stopped. He wasn’t sure what to say. I let our Captain fuck me so hard I saw stars and then leave me before I even cleaned his come out of my ass? No. That’d be crude. And unfair. It’s not like Shane pulled out and left. They cuddled. Mike mentally snorted. Now he was justifying to himself and he felt more pathetic than usual._ _

__Mikkel snapped his fingers in front of Mike’s face. “Hey, where’d you go?”_ _

__Mike sighed, “Nowhere. It’s fine.”_ _

__“I don’t think you are, bud.” Mikkel stared at him, but there wasn’t any pity there. Mike remembered when Mikkel and Olie had first gotten their shit together. Before they’d officially been MikkelandOlie. Mikkel hadn’t been too okay himself._ _

__He shrugged. “I’m as okay as I can be. Shane doesn’t.” Mike swallowed and looked up as their waitress came and took drink orders. They put in for their usual appetizers and sushi rolls, Oliver’s order of tempura. She smiled at them and promised to be back with their drinks in just a minute. Mike slid his hands down his thighs under the table to squeeze hard, just above his knees. “Shane isn’t interested in any kind of arrangement that isn’t just hooking up when he feels like it.”_ _

__Mikkel frowned. “When he feels like it? What about you? What do you want?”_ _

__Mike shook his head and put on another, admittedly fake smile as the waitress returned with their sodas. He waited until she was out of earshot again, glad they were in a corner of the restaurant alone. “Doesn’t matter.”_ _

__“Mike,” Mikkel shook his head. “Even if it’s just friends with benefits, that’s bullshit.” Oliver had looked up to frown as well, nodding along with Mikkel’s words before catching himself and looking back down, tips of his ears going red._ _

__Mike laughed softly, but it wasn’t really funny. “I, uh, tried it that way and. You remember a few years ago, at camp?”_ _

__“Is that what happened?” Oliver blurted out._ _

__Mike snorted. “Oh yeah. Right after the season before. The summer felt worse than camp even.”_ _

__Mikkel reached across and held Mike’s forearm where he'd rested it on the table top again. “That's on Doaner.” Mikkel glared at him when Mike opened his mouth to argue, “Mike,” tone hard and uncompromising on this point. Mike closed his mouth and smiled, more honest this time. Mikkel nodded firmly and took his hand back._ _

__Oliver gave up pretending not to pay attention to add, “Fuck that. You can't maintain that long term, Mikey. It'll fuck with your head.”_ _

__“Speaking from experience?” Mike couldn't stop himself from asking, slightly snide._ _

__“Yeah. I do.” Olie said simply. Mikkel tangled their fingers together, unapologetic affection easy between the two of them. Mike swallowed down his jealousy and smiled at the two of them and their cuteness. Oliver stuck his tongue out at him like the mature adult he was._ _

__“Can we please talk about something now?” Mike half begged._ _

__Mikkel rolled his eyes and nodded, “How's recovery going?”_ _

__“Is the scar gonna be cool?” Olie teased._ _

__Mike snorted Coke up his nose and coughed, laughing and glaring at Oliver as his friends laughed at him._ _

__~*~_ _

__Mikkel stood by Mike outside as the valets went for their cars. Oliver had stayed back to use the restroom and Mike suspected to give Mikkel a chance to really talk to him alone. “You know you can stop all this. Even if it makes it tense in the room for a while. Shane’s a professional. He’s get over himself eventually.”_ _

__Mike shook his head. “I’m not arguing against that. I’m not.” He added, at the skeptical look Mikkel’s face had scrunched into. “But it’s just. I love him.” He admitted it plainly. Saying it out loud for probably the first time. He’d never been brave enough to say it to Shane, not since suggesting even seeing each other in the off season had set him off so bad. “I’m in love with him and it’s not at all a good thing.”_ _

__He looked back up, not knowing when he’d stopped making eye contact. Mikkel’s face was doing something terrible that Mike was trying very hard not to identify. “But you know that. So maybe you should stop letting Shane set whatever pace he’s setting?” Mikkel asked softly._ _

__Mike inhaled, held it, and then exhaled, counting out the seconds between each step of the process before responding. “I don’t know if I can. I just keep reaching for whatever little bit of something he’ll give me, even if it’s killing me to do it this way, you know?”_ _

__Mikkel nodded, eyes going over Mike’s shoulder, watching Oliver come out to meet them, Mike would bet. “Yeah, I’m familiar with that one. Well. Try. I worry about you.”_ _

__Oliver’s hand on Mike’s shoulder made him jump a little and He half turned into the bro hug Oliver gave him, “We worry.” Oliver murmured. Their cars were finally pulled up in front of them and they said their goodbyes. Mike watched them leave first before getting himself together enough to drive home, putting on an old rock album he could zone out to._ _

__He was pulling into his parking garage as his phone went off and he frowned when he realized it was Shane’s ringtone. He forced himself not to answer it immediately. “Hello?”_ _

___”Hi, Mikey.”_ _ _

__Mike tilted his head and turned his car off and waited. Shane’s breathing was loud in the sudden quiet as the music cut off abruptly._ _

___”You doing anything later tonight?” _Shane finally asks, when the silence Mike refuses to fill gets too awkward.__ _ _

____Mike shakes his head at nothing and looks towards the roof. before finally replying. “Nothing planned.” He doesn’t ask why. He doesn’t want to know. Doesn’t want to feel like he’s begging for scraps of Shane’s attention. Why does it feel worse today than it usually would? Because he gave in and talked about it with Mikkel? He doesn’t care._ _ _ _

____Shane clears his throat, sounds less confident than usual. _”So if I stop by, you’ll be there?” _____ _ _

______And something inside Mike snaps. Mikkel’s right. He can’t do this. He can’t let Shane come over later. Let Shane put him on his knees and feel like heaven for however long it takes them both to get off and then watch as Shane dresses in the dark. Or worse, be worked over so completely he passes out and doesn’t even know when Shane leaves. Just gets to wake up again smelling Shane on his sheets, on himself. “No.”_ _ _ _ _ _

_______”You just said-”_ _ _ _ _ _ _

______Mike cuts in, interrupts in a way he never does when Shane’s talking. “That’s not what I mean. I mean you can stop by if you want to. But we’re not fucking tonight.” Mike says it flat out. Tries to be blunt about it even though it feels a little like stabbing himself._ _ _ _ _ _

_______”Okay…”_ Shane draws out the word for a moment, before his voice goes into a lower register. _”There’s plenty of other things we can do if I got a little too rough with you last night, babe.”_ Shane throws the pet name out like nothing. Normally Mike would be hard in two seconds flat but he’s limp behind his zipper nothing about this conversation turning him on at all._ _ _ _ _ _

______“No. I’m done, Shane. Don’t bother coming over tonight, eh?” Mike sighs and rubs a hand over his face, eyes stinging but he refuses to cry. “I’m calling it quits on the fuck buddies thing or whatever you consider this.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Mike pulls his keys out of the ignition roughly and finally climbs out of the car, just so he can slam the car door, something physical to do with his frustration. “I’m all used up, Shane. You’ve taken all I’ve got here. There’s nothing left, okay?” He bites his tongue and then decides fuck it, “You’ll have to find someone else to use as a convenient hole.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Shane is still sputtering when Mike says a rough goodbye and hangs up. He’d never had the nerve to end the conversation first no matter how uncomfortable he might have been in the past but right now it felt pretty damn good._ _ _ _ _ _

______Of course by the time he got to his condo the adrenaline had faded and the panic was setting in. What in the fuck had he just done? He sat down on the couch and tucked his head down, hands wrapped together on the back of his neck, elbows on his knees. He didn’t keep track of how long he stayed there._ _ _ _ _ _

______~*~_ _ _ _ _ _

______The next day Mike made his way to the arena on autopilot. He still felt groggy from oversleeping. His alarm had gone off but he’d been unable to face the day and had just rolled over in bed, covers over his head. He was paying for it now but he didn’t think anyone would really be able to tell._ _ _ _ _ _

______He should’ve known better._ _ _ _ _ _

______Aside from the ice coming from their captain their teammates definitely noticed Mikkel hovering over Mike, even though Mike was just there in his suit to support Louie’s start. Mike shared a goalie look with Anders and shook his head as Anders grinned at him._ _ _ _ _ _

______He’d can’t say he’d expected to be mother henned by Mikkel but Anders and Louis had decided to adopt the practice as well without knowing why out of goalie solidarity and Oliver was finding it all hilarious. Mike swatted at him when Tippett wasn’t looking and ignored the braying laugh he got in response._ _ _ _ _ _

______Shane on the other hand found none of this amusing and was probably wishing Mike was still injured enough to not be at the rink actually. Mike couldn’t remember if the last time they’d ‘fought,’ Shane had glared at him this harshly or if Mike was just more sensitive to it, knowing Shane better. He straightened his shoulders and forced himself to keep his face blank and meet Shane’s eyes like he would any forward in the shootout. Shane looked surprised for half a second before looking away._ _ _ _ _ _

______Mike lined up along the wall with Joey and the other scratches for the game, ready for the fistbump line as the team got ready to go out for warm ups. Mikkel stopped when it was his turn and very gently bumped his helmeted head against Mike’s shoulder. “Good job, Mikey.” He whispered before continuing down the line. Mike swallowed a sad laugh. Shane looked for a moment like he wasn’t going to follow through on the ritual of it all but did offer a half assed fistbump and continued on his way._ _ _ _ _ _

______Joey leaned over, “What did you do, kill Doaner’s dog?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Mike shoved Vitale away and snorted. “Close enough, I guess. But no.” Mike paused as they started to head towards the team box. “Actually, you could say I took away his favorite chew toy, I suppose.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______The way Joey choked was a little satisfying._ _ _ _ _ _

______~*~_ _ _ _ _ _

______They won, and added a much needed 2 points to keep them in the playoff race. Mike smiled and watched the guys enjoy their victory. A nice steady 4-2 win. Louie had stood strong in net and their d-corps hadn’t given up anything they needed to be embarrassed about. He watched as the belt was passed to Duke and Max practically jumped on him in his hurry to hug him. He shook his head. Those two were not subtle. No longer living together or not._ _ _ _ _ _

______He jumped about three feet when someone cleared their throat next to his ear though. He turned and caught sight of Shane and sighed deeply. “Yeah?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Can I talk to you a minute?” Shane nodded towards the empty trainer’s room. Mike looked around and realized everyone was giving them space and that the room was probably empty for a reason. Better to get it over with then._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Sure, Captain.” Shane winced at that but followed Mike into the room, closing the door softly. Mike leaned against one the tables, arms crossing slowly._ _ _ _ _ _

______“What’s going on, Mikey?” Shane frowned at him, his expressive face showing just about every thought he was having at the moment. Mike forced himself not to try and make it better. That wasn’t his job._ _ _ _ _ _

______Mike shook his head. “Nothing anymore, Shane. That was sort of my point yesterday; I’m done.” He uncrossed his arms and held out his hands, palms up. “I’m tired.” He admitted it more easily than he would have thought to before breaking it off._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Tired of me?” Shane’s voice was quiet and hurt._ _ _ _ _ _

______Mike blinked and looked up sharply. “I wasn’t the one who limited what we had, Shane.” Mike shook his head and turned away, hand rubbing over the back of his neck as stress tightened the muscles there. “I don’t need to explain anything here,” Mike’s voice shook a little. “We don’t have much to end, but I’m calling an end to it all the same. That’s all you need to know.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Shane’s hand closed over Mike’s bicep. “Why though?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Because I love you!” Shane’s hand drew back so fast it was like Mike had burned him. Mike laughed. “And you can barely stand to look at me if I admit I have feelings let alone any for _you_.” Mike didn’t looked back and he didn’t wait to see if Shane could come up with a way to rationalize his way out of it. _ _ _ _ _ _

______He just went back into the locker room and looked for Mikkel. He was so glad to see Mikkel and Oliver were showered and back into their suits. He didn’t think he could stand to drive, let alone sit in his own empty house. “Can I go home with you?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Mikkel was nodding before Mike even finished the question. Mike sagged in relief and let the two of them heard him out of them barely remembering to say his goodbyes to the rest of the team. He didn’t have the energy left to fake normal right then. But he also felt like he was going to be okay for the first time in a long time._ _ _ _ _ _


	2. those are the days that bind us together, forever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shane is thrown into the fire and figures out why it hurts so much.

All this bad blood here, won't you let it dry?  
It's been cold for years, won't you let it lie?

If we're only ever looking back  
We will drive ourselves insane  
As the friendship goes resentment grows  
We will walk our different ways

But those are the days that bind us together, forever  
And those little things define us forever, forever

Bad Blood- Bastille

 

The truck’s engine was not nearly as satisfying as it usually was. The music not quite loud enough even if it was beyond the point of making the car shake. 

To put it mildly Shane was _pissed off_. He could feel it in every corner of his body. Could taste the pennies in his mouth from the blood that he’d brought about by gnawing on his bottom lip. Feel it in the way he gripped his wheel till his knuckles were white. His muscles were so tight, and maybe the music had something to do with it but either way, his neck and head throbbed with a headache that wouldn’t quit. 

They had had an agreement. They had an agreement from the very start of this whole thing and then Mike had to screw it up not once, not twice, but multiple times. Telling him he had feelings when he had made it clear that that was not at all what he wanted. Then he had the freaking audacity to act like it was SHANE’S fault here? 

He was the one who was being clear. He was the one who was stating his intentions and following through. He wasn’t throwing a wrench into everything that was _working._

Because that was what it was doing, it had been working. They screwed around when they had time, during the season, when they needed a release. He got to take time to be with family in the off season without the pressure a relationship would mess with. He would just enjoy his time AND focus on being the Captain that the team needed. 

“ _I love you_.” 

It was in a loop in his head, the music doing nothing to mask it. The look on Mike’s face. The anger, yeah, but the hurt behind it and the underlying reminder that it was Shane’s fault, Shane’s words and actions that put that there. It made his stomach churn. 

Turning down the music to a more reasonable level he took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He looked around and realized that he had no idea where he was. That he’d just gotten into his car and driven. Thankfully the 101 was a loop, because he was pretty sure he’d gone the wrong way and was taking the excessively long way to get back to his house. He didn’t even recognize the street names and he was pretty good with the locations here after living in the area for two decades. 

He did see, though, an exit and a Starbucks just passed it so he turned his indicator on and slowly crossed the lanes, checking as he went. 

He drove through, got his usual and parked his car. 

What he needed to do was think. Or possibly not think. He wasn’t quite sure. Whatever adrenaline that had been keeping him going had suddenly drained out of him in one quick slide and he found that his head was on his bent arms over the wheel. 

His body was shaking and it took almost a full minute before before he realized he was crying. He was actually _crying_. It was the drop of adrenaline, he told himself, but even if he wouldn’t admit it to himself he was lying. The lady had handed him a napkin, which lasted a grand total of three minutes when it came to wiping away the tears. It was like he couldn’t stop once it started. 

The fact that no one else was around was a blessing. This wasn’t a side he showed anyone, with maybe the exception of his mother and even that had been easily a decade. He was a strong guy. This was pathetic. 

What was more pathetic was he had his phone in his line of sight. He couldn’t help but look at it, he didn’t need to check it to know there was no text from Mike. The face, the one that was stuck in his brain, was clearly not the type to text him. He exhaled and his breath was unsteady. He made a half assed attempt with the napkin and grabbed at the phone. 

_**Is he with you?** _   
_**Fuck you** _

His urge to remind Mikkel that he was not only his captain but also a friend was strong but he was entirely sure he earned this and anything else he got. He paused for a moment and breathed. 

_**Is he okay?** _   
_**What the fuck do you think Cap?** _

His stomach twisted again. 

_You deserve this_ , he reminded himself. 

He threw his phone back down onto the passenger seat with enough force that it bounced up and off to the floor. He leant his head against the chair back. He closed his eyes and breathed the steady rhythm he had done literally thousands of times. Before games, during breaks, when he was at the top of a mountain after a good climb or horseback ride. 

In and out and in and out. 

At some point the tears stopped and in their wake a calm that almost felt surreal. Somehow he knew, though, that this was the right course. The right path. He’d let it go too far. He’d let himself go too far and he’d gotten Mike hurt in the process, he’d messed with the team’s dynamic in the process. Neither was acceptable. So he had to do what was best. 

He had to back away from Mike and move forward. 

It was that simple. 

*

The days following were a level of awkward Shane hadn’t been prepared for. He’d been expecting the icy treatment from Mike, Mikkel, and Oliver. Had even thought that Domingue would probably read it and be on the same level. But the four of them were far from the only ones who were treating him the same way. It was as if the whole group had gotten wind of it, though he knew that couldn’t be true. 

They closed ranks, though, and he was definitely no longer on the top. For the first time in close to a decade he felt like an outsider on his own team, like he was at the bottom of a mountain he needed to climb to get back his name and his captainship. 

He had no doubt that this was earned, and if this was the penance to be paid he would pay it. 

Blessedly, at least the ice was still sacred space. When the team got on it they turned to him and they listened. The next few games was a case of two steps forward one step back. They went 4-2-1 on the homestead and after a day of a breather they were stepping onto the team plane to take them across the country. 

He took the window out of habit. His usual seatmate was Mikey, or had been as long as Mike was on the plane. That, obviously, wasn’t happening. He had shared the seat with Hanzal for a while while Mike was injured. But Hanzal sat with Z instead, both playing games on their phone. 

He put his headphones on and turned on his music, bringing out the iPad he had set up for his strategy maps. He really didn’t need to look them over, he had them memorized, but looking distracted was a lot better than looking forward and having anyone notice him. 

After take off and Hannah, their usual stewardess, came through to give him his usual water bottle and pretzels (he was a man of habit), he was shocked to find he wasn’t alone in the seat any longer. He was even more surprised to find Oliver beside him, his headphones around his neck and his eyes boring a hole in the side of Shane’s head. 

Shane pulled down his own headphones, grabbing at his phone to hit mute. 

“What the heck? How long you been sitting there?” 

Oliver shrugged. “Not long.” 

He continued to do nothing though, just staring at him with a half glare. He seemed to be weighing his options and while Shane appreciated the need to weigh your words closely he was also painfully aware that they were on a plane _full_ of his teammates who were already treating him like he was wearing a shirt soaked in piss. 

“Something on your mind?” 

Oliver nodded slightly, then tilted his head a few rows ahead where Mikkel and Mike were seated playing video games. “You really messed with him, Shane.” 

Shane swallowed around a lump in his throat. Mike was sitting in the aisle, leaned over trying to see Mikkel’s screen. His face was away from him but the loose curls from the back of his hair were messed up and shaking, either from trash talk or laughing he couldn’t hear from the distance. Mikkel shoved at him and half of Mike’s face came into view. He was smiling. Something seized inside his chest. 

“You think I don’t know that?” Shane asked through clenched teeth. 

“Planning on fixing it?” 

He pulled his eyes away from studying Mike’s face and looked Oliver dead in the eye. “What do you think I’m trying to do?” 

Oliver’s brows raised. “You are doing nothing.” 

“Exactly,” he pointed forward. “And he’s smiling. I think that’s better than where he was.” 

“ _Har du piss i huvudet, eller?_ ” 

Shane wasn’t exactly proficient in Swedish but he knew enough to know the general sense of what the kid was saying. 

“Look, Oliver,” Shane sighed. “It’s better this way. Somethings are just better not being, we wanted different things. It affected him, it affected me, and it affected the team. We move forward, it’s better this way.”

“How many times are you going to say that it is better before you believe it?” 

He exhaled slowly. “It _is_ , Oliver. Just trust me on this one.” 

Oliver rolled his eyes at him like he was a fifteen year old being told his new curfew, and Shane was made aware once again just how much younger the bulk of the team was than him. 

Not Mikey though. Mikey was closer to his age and Mikey got it.

Putting his headphones back on and standing up, Oliver gave a half assed salute and walked forward. He slid between Mike and Mikkel and then got into the window seat beside Mikkel. The other two guys looked back at him for a moment and Shane ducked his head forward, putting his headphones on and forcing the music on. 

*

Being on the road, if anything, is worse than at home. At home there were ways to escape that were not possible when you were literally with your team at most times with little to no down time. This had secretly been his favorite part for years, the feeling of family and community that the road entailed. 

Now it was the exact opposite. He was isolated. Whatever had or hadn’t been told to the teammates had made him persona non grata to most members of the team and even the few players that seemed to be not taking sides gave him a wide berth for whatever reason. 

He was alone. On the road. And desperately trying to get his head back in order. And missing Mike a little like he would miss a vital organ, the constant sucking emptiness inside of him. But that was by far not what was concerning him at all. He had expected that, he had _decided_ on that. He could not give Mike what he wanted. This was what was for the best. 

(And yes, he would repeat that a thousand times, until it actually sounded like it made sense to him, thank you, Oliver.) 

The third night, they’d gotten a win in Philadelphia, and the bulk of the boys decided it was time to let loose as they didn’t have to leave till just after one the next day to get to Pittsburgh. He’d declined the offer that had not been extended to him and went back to his room for a grand total of ten minutes to change into street clothes. 

He knew what he needed. He was tired, cranky, exhausted, and yeah… a little sad. But on top of all that? He was horny. He’d had Mike to scratch that itch and without that itch being scratched he could feel himself losing his cool, off ice, and now it was spreading onto the ice. It wasn’t a widespread thing among players, there wasn’t like a ‘I do Dudes’ patch you wore on your sweater or anything but some players knew other players who knew others and… well. The knowledge was passed along. 

The bar, he’d specified that it not be a club as it was just not his style, was small and a total hole in the wall, the type that he preferred. He was pushing himself to keep his head down when needed. He wasn’t in the mood to be recognized, even if that had happened maybe two dozen times in his twenty years. The 25th time being in a gay bar was probably a bad precedent to set. 

He’d worn a hat, not the Yotes one he always had with him, or even a cowboy hat as he kind of wanted to, but just a plain black hat with a Canadian flag on his bill. He ordered a beer and sat down, eyeing the room surreptitiously and sipping the beer slowly. The room was just full enough that he had options but his list of needs made the options quickly limited. 

Putting his taste aside (tall, lanky, messy brown hair)... he needed someone who seemed to be okay with this being a one time thing. With no names, no games, no nothing. He needed to be able to rely on the fact that this wasn’t going to be on PuckDaddy in the morning. 

Which was exactly why he wasn’t the type to do this before. He was always careful, never so careless. When he’d met Mike, it was like too good to be true. He was a guy who was hot as hell, down to do what needed to be done… hell, even the original fact that he was on the team which had seemed like a downside at first had ended up being a huge upside. 

Until. Well. Recently. 

“O. Canada,” a voice came from beside him and Shane startled upright. 

“Huh?” 

The man, tall, blonde and easy on the eyes, flicked at Shane’s cap. “O. Canada, eh?” 

He exhaled, anyone saying it in that way had no real affiliation with the country. 

He shrugged and gave his best smile. “It’s a friend’s hat.” 

“Well,” the guy looked around the area they were at. “Doesn’t look like your friend is here. Mind if I sit down?” 

Shane nodded and moved back slightly to give the guy space to get onto the stool. “What’re you having? I’m buying.” 

“Bud’s fine with me,” the guy pointed, referencing the bottle in Shane’s hand. 

Signaling the bartender he made the sign for two more and looked at the guy. “Local?” 

“Nah,” the guy shrugged. “In town for a family wedding. So if I look like I’m about to come out of my skin, I apologize.” 

Shane didn’t even have to force a laugh, which was a good sign, add on the fact that the guy didn’t live in the city? _Ding ding ding_ , we have a winner. 

“You a local?” 

He thought about his options here but figured the safest bet was to keep as close to the truth as he was able to. “Here for work.” 

He downed the rest of his beer in one go and took the second beer in front of him for a long pull. He had to think this through. No way in hell he was bringing this guy to the hotel, he wasn’t out of his mind. He’d picked this place cause it was far enough away. But did he want to risk this guy’s random third cousin putting two and two together and get a nice little payday for outing the first NHL player?

The guy was talking, Shane suddenly realised, his mouth moving while Shane was totally a million miles away in his own head. 

“Sorry, I missed that,” he rubbed at his forward. “It’s been a long day.” 

The guy laughed and tilted his beer towards Shane and clinked theirs together. “I can drink to that.”

They drank. Shane finished his, again, and thought about getting the bartender for another one but stopped himself. Three beers would barely give him a buzz but there was nothing he wanted less than three beers turning into four and then it going down the drain. 

“I was just asking what you did for business but it seems like that isn’t the type of business you’re looking for.” The guy licked his lips and it was almost ridiculous. “Got a wife back home?” 

The guy’s hands spread out on Shane’s thighs and without thinking Shane answered. “Something like that.” 

“Well, my hotel is close enough to get to and I can promise you my family is still at a party for something or other and if not they are way too drunk to care what we get up to.” 

Shane licked at his lips, entirely nerves not anything sexual. “Why would I care if your family saw me?” 

“Let’s just say it’s a guess,” the guy laughed and flicked Shane’s hat a bit. “You look like some celebrity trying not to get caught, so I don’t know how far reach your wifey or whatever might have but no worries. She won’t hear a word from the Fryfields’.“ 

Shane canted his hips up to grab his wallet and the guy made an obscene noise. Somewhere in the back of Shane’s brain he heard Mike laughing at him. It stabbed at him like a knife. He threw down two twenties and shoved his wallet back in his pants. 

“After you,” Shane waved his hands forward and the guy got up. From behind the guy was lanky and were it not for his shockingly blonde hair he might be able to pretend, maybe. 

But that wasn’t what he wanted, not at all. 

*

Afterwards, he grabbed his pants almost immediately, tossing a towel towards the guy laying satiated on the bed. It had been good, in that way that anonymous sex could be. There was the thrill of never having to see the guy again. The ability to get off without having to care if he went to fast or too slow. It was easy, like he thought it should be. 

But even if he didn’t want to admit to it, there were things that felt missing. The fact that he knew just how far he could go with Mike. What Mike liked, what made him make that noise in the back of his throat. The fact that if he wanted to he could get Mike off in just under two minutes or if he really wanted to he could make it last for hours. 

“Not much for the afterglow, are you?” 

“What’s the point?” Shane said, voice muffled by his shirt over his head. 

“I’m Mark, by the way.” 

Shane looked back at the guy, _Mark_. Who obviously didn’t get him if he was bringing names into the game. Mark looked at Shane with an expectant look. 

“I’m Mark,” he pointed at himself, then towards Shane. “And you are?” 

“Al,” he lied. “Nice to meet you.” 

He was at the door when Mark called out. “Don’t think I could your phone number?” 

“Don’t have one.” 

He made his way into the hallway and passed the elevator, taking the stairs instead. Even if he had just had a decent workout, he liked the stretch of muscle of taking the stairs two by two. 

Checking his watch let him know he had about twenty minutes till curfew. 

“Damn it,” echoed in the stairwell. 

He got back to the hotel with barely a minute and a half to spare, doing what felt like the walk of shame as he walked down the hallway towards his room. A few guys were in the hallway, Hanzal was on the phone with his wife, so was Antoine. 

Domi and Duke were playing some messed up version of almost soccer, which if he hadn’t just screwed some guy he barely knew he might scold them for but he was feeling a little hypocritical at the moment. When they caught sight of him they both stopped in their tracks waiting for the rebuke and when none came Domi tilted his head at Shane. 

“Cap?” 

Shane nodded in their direction and then made his way a few doors down to fumble with his key card and ignore the obvious and loud discussion that was being had behind him. 

* 

In Pittsburgh the guy was named Greg, again not following the clear rule that names were not necessary. He lived in town but made it known quickly that he was just out of a relationship and wanted nothing to do with another one. Shane could get behind that. (And he did.) 

Greg was too broad, with no hair to tug at if Shane had wanted to. But he was comforting enough for the short term. They hadn’t even bothered to go back to anyone’s house, just fast and dirty in the bathroom. It was about as much pleasure as he’d expected in the short term and it got him back to the hotel with a lot more time to spare. 

He ran into Mike and Mikkel in the hallway though, obviously having come home from the bar with the rest of the guys. They’d lost, freaking two headed monster finally getting themselves together for enough time to take them to a 5-1 loss and Mike was obviously drunk as hell. 

Mikkel gave him a look up and down, Shane suddenly acutely aware of the fact that he probably looked like he just hooked up in a bathroom at a seedy bar. (Which, in fact, he had.) 

Mike, on the other hand, was far enough gone to not notice and to have forgotten the part of him that had sworn off talking to Shane. With in a moment Shane had an armful of goalie, smelling beer and whiskey and Mike’s stupid cologne. He inhaled deeper and then felt instantly guilty. 

“Hey Shane, I did shots with the Swedes,” Mike said, slurring all the s sounds. 

Shane had made that mistake once or twice. “Probably not a good idea, Mikey.” 

Mike nodded in the way that drunk people do, over emphasizing it and then leaning forward too much. He fell into Shane’s neck and inhaled, his nose crinkling back. “You smell wrong. Are you wearing a new cologne?” 

“I think it’s called Shame?” Mikkel quirked an eyebrow up at Shane. 

Ignoring the fact that Mikkel was completely right, Shane gave him frown. Mike was kept leaning in and nuzzling at his neck. It felt… good. Much better than anything that had happened in the last few days. For a split second he thought that maybe… well. Maybe. “Where’s your room? I can take you there.” 

Mike froze in his arms and then pushed back, seemingly sobering up but Shane could see the tell tale signs of alcohol all around him. He tried to push back and almost lost his bearings. He turned back to Mikkel. “Mikkel is taking me back to my room.” 

A switch had gone off, clearly, and the coldness was back. Shane nodded a little, as if giving himself the reminder that that was what he wanted. 

“See you tomorrow, Doan,” Mikkel said, coolly taking Mike from Shane’s grip. 

Shane walked to his room and took a long hot shower before hitting the bed. 

* 

The next few games didn’t allow him a chance to get out again. They had one game left on the road trip, St. Louis, and while he had heard about a bar from one of the guys on the Blues he ended up forgoing it for a club with the rest of the guys. He was getting the feeling that in his quest to get Mike out of his blood he was forgetting the rest of the goal that he was going for. 

He needed to get the team back together. Which meant he actually had to be around them. 

Which was easier said than done. He usually kept himself pretty sober when it was time with the team, as he had had one or two different times that hadn’t ended well. He was meant to be the team leader, the one whom people look towards for guidance. But he was messed up and tired, so he drank with the young players. It was obviously not his finest moment. 

It did loosen up the players who’d been acting cold around him. Murphs made a big deal about asking if he’d dance and he was just relaxed enough to do so and it got the group to laugh and he wasn’t even embarrassed. He wasn’t sure about the music, but Max was excited by whatever was playing and he, Connor and Duke dragged him back out into the center of the dance floor to jam around like idiots. 

When he finally broke free to get to the counter and grab a bottle of water, because holy heck he was in good shape but that was hot and exhausting, he was shocked to find Mike as the only one seated at the booth the team had claimed. He was staring Shane down and Shane had no idea if it was with anger or with hunger. Mike’s eyes were heavy lidded, but he was sipping a bottle of water not a bottle of beer. 

Shane looked around, all too aware that Mike’s ‘protection detail’ could be feet away from him. But when he finally caught sight of Mikkel and Oliver they were both on the dance floor and so caught up in each other the chance of them noticing a rampant bear was low to not at all. He still waited though, eyes flicking to the couple and then back to Mike who was still staring him down. 

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, thinking about all the ways this was a terrible idea. He ticked them off in his head like he sometimes did before a game, the ways that things could go wrong. The plays he shouldn’t make. This was like trying to deke on Pricey levels of stupid. It was picking a fight with Malkin levels of stupid. 

That didn’t seem to stop his feet from moving forward, as he was halfway across the room before he realized he’d taken a step. Mike was watching him, watching every movement and Shane didn’t see any sign of him telling him to stop. No non-verbal cues of ‘BACK THE HELL OFF’. His stomach somehow felt full of butterflies and lead at the same time. 

He reached the table and stopped himself short of sliding into the booth. He felt stiff and formal. 

“Mike.” 

Mike raised an eyebrow. “Doaner.” 

That stung just a little bit, he wasn’t sure why. He got called that all the time. But the way it lay on Mike’s tongue sounded far more bitter and less friendly. 

“I should…” Shane started, finally thinking better of all of this and turning around. 

Mike’s voice came from behind him. “Sit down.” 

Shane stopped mid first step and turned on his heel. Mike didn’t look like he was joking, instead he had his hand on the booth beside him and patted it invitingly. This was not even just teasing Malkin, this was boarding Sid to rile Malkin up levels of stupid. 

He stared at Mike’s hand for a second and then turned back to check for Mikkel and Oliver. They’d moved a little further into the dance floor, probably hoping for some mask but falling short. Still dancing. (Dancing was a nice term for it. Vertical sex could be more accurate. But that was a thought for a later date. Much much later. Possibly never.) 

“You sure about that, Mikey?” 

“Would I have asked?” Mike practically rolled his eyes. 

Shane shrugged and walked back. As he slid into the booth he tried his best to keep himself at just the right distance. It was loud, which gave him the excuse to be a little closer than he would allow any other time. It gave him the chance to catch the scent of the familiar cologne and the gel Mike sometimes used to tame his curls when they went out. 

“You look good tonight,” Mike drawled. “Dancing with the guys. You looked relaxed. Haven’t seen that in a while.” 

Shane swallowed and looked out to the dance floor. The guys who remained (i.e. the guys who didn’t have wives and families back home and therefore cherished the chance to sleep on hotel nights) were still out there, bopping around like fools. He felt a little bit of a blush creep up as he realized that he had been one of those fools only minutes before. 

“I’ve wanted to warm the guys up, get team bonding going,” he said, somewhat defensively. “Figured I could stand making an ass out of myself once or twice for that.” 

Mike leaned in a little closer, lowering his voice. “I said you looked good, I wasn’t teasing. I forgot what that smile looked like.” 

And there was the liquor on Mike’s breath that Shane had known had to be part of this equation. Sober Mike had better control, he hadn’t so much as looked at him without it being hockey related in days. It’d been a burr in Shane’s side.

“Smile?” 

Mike nodded. “The one you always hate, you hide it as much as possible. It takes over your entire face, brings out every crinkle you have. It’s one of my favorite of your smiles.” 

He assumed he should be insulted, crinkle sounded a little too much like wrinkle for his liking. But he liked that Mike had a favorite, that he even kept track of them at all. Bravely he put his hand up and pulled on a freed bit of his hair. 

“Yeah, well, I like it when you don’t have your hair slicked back. I like your curls the way they are.” 

“I know,” Mike said, and flicked a look at Shane. “That’s why I slicked it back tonight.” 

That actually did hurt. Shane leaned away from Mike and went to move out of the booth. He wasn’t going to be there for a fight. He was going to have a good night. That was his goal, or a byproduct of his goal. 

Mike grabbed him by his wrist, voice actually repentant. “Stop. I didn’t mean to be so… I mean. I did… but I shouldn’t have been that way. That was dick of me.” 

“You said we were through,” Shane said, half a rebuke but mostly a question. He swore he could feel Mike’s pulse increase through the two fingers around his wrist. He lifted his wrist a little. “This doesn’t feel over.” 

A tense minute followed, Mike staring him down but not moving an inch. Shane felt himself doing all the stupid things that he did when he was anxious, lick at his lips and fidget. Look away from Mike and bite at his lower lip. He even used his free hand to try and push his damp hair back behind his ear, forgetting he’d cut it. 

Finally Mike leaned in, lips actually touching Shane’s ears as they moved. “It doesn’t, does it?” 

Shane was instantly, painfully, hard. He’d been sporting slight wood since the minute that he sat down and smelled Mike but it was nothing to the moment Mike’s lips hit his ear. It put his morning wood to shame. He ducked forward, like that would change anything, but Mike had already seen and was laughing at him. 

“You seem like you might need to get back to the hotel after all, old man.”

“Who you calling old man?” 

Mike shrugged, pushing hard on Shane’s side. “Come on, before the Swede brigade find us and there is hell to pay.” 

“You do know Mikkel isn’t actually Swedish, right?” Shane said, sliding out of the table and looking back at the beer strewn all over it. “Who’s gonna pay?” 

“Let Olie pick it up, he’s got some to spare,” Mike took Shane’s hand and that was the last time that he had for logic. 

* 

They got back to the hotel and were bizarrely aware enough to be careful. No making out in the elevator, cameras. Instead Mike just looked at him through his lashes and Shane focused on trying to remember his stats from his first few years in the leagues. Sure that if someone _was_ looking at the camera they would be able to see quite clearly what was going on. 

The hallway was blessedly empty and Mike’s room was on the end which meant that the bed was towards the elevator shaft. Small miracles. 

The doorway closed behind Mike and Shane gave up trying to not touch him, instead he pushed him back against the wall and licked inside his mouth. He was desperate for Mike’s skin beneath his, the feeling of kissing him like taking his first breath after sitting on the bottom of the pool for too long. 

“Fu-fuck,” Mike said as they pulled back. 

Shane didn’t have time for words, he could only go for actions. He pulled on Mike’s jean buttons. The jerk was wearing the kind with a row of them, not even having the decency to give him a zipper to work with here. 

He got stuck with one of them, his fingers weren’t as nimble as they used to be and he practically ripped it from its seams before Mike decided that he’d had enough and flicked the last four off in a matter of seconds. As soon as he pulled his jeans down Shane got sight of the tenting on Mike’s underwear. 

It was absurd that that was what it took for him to finally get that it was real but his whole body gave a sudden shiver and he felt like his knees were going to go go weak any moment. He let himself give in to the urge and fell to his knees, just as Mike kicked his jeans off. 

“Shane, what the…” Mike stopped as Shane put his mouth on the top of Mike’s underwear, first pulling it down a little and then licking a stripe along the top of it and blowing slight air along the wet line. It had been something Mike had done for him a few times and damn if it didn’t get him almost every single time. The warmth of his breath, the sudden cool of air and the fact that it had been … well. Mike. It was single handedly the hottest action that Mike could do, so he hoped it would be the same for Mike. 

If the sudden inhalation of breath was any indication it was at least a little something for him. Shane snapped the top of his underwear playfully with his teeth and then used a hand to actually pull it down. 

“We can move to the bed, your knees are…” Mike panted. 

“Shut the hell up, Mikey, I’m not that old yet.” 

(Which, truthfully, wasn’t honest. He was already feeling it and would most likely feel it on the plane the next morning but he wasn’t giving into that right now.) 

It was strange, really, that it had only been a few weeks at most since the last time he’d seen Mike’s dick. It had always been something he could count on. Not just the dick, actually, but the whole… Mike thing. Mike was his and he was Mike’s. Not like _that_ but, something kind of like that. 

He hadn’t given head in so long he couldn’t remember the last time. It would have had to have been with Mike. He was the only person he would trust doing that with but then again, he couldn’t remember the last time he did it… so what did that say? 

Mike fidgeted against the wall, Shane looked up and he looked obviously uncomfortable and like he might just be rethinking the whole thing which was not where he wanted this to be going. He took Mike into his mouth in one swift motion, hand at the base to give him some leverage. 

He choked a little, it had been a while after all, but then when he backed up a bit he found that it wasn’t as bad as he’d feared. He remembered to use his tongue and the hand that was close to Mike’s balls. He got the rhythm going and followed the lead of what Mike was seeming to like. 

Mike was about as helpful as he could be, moaning and pulling on Shane’s hair a little while he talked nonsense above him. Shane caught some of it but was understandably a little distracted with the whole cock sucking thing so he felt he had the right to not get it all. 

What he did catch was, “Shane…. missed you. Missed this… Fuckkkk. Hate you. Fuckkk. Can’t hate you. Hate that I can’t, fucccckkkk.” 

Shane felt like a giant asshole that even when he was supposed to be enjoying himself Mike couldn’t fully without feeling like he was doing something wrong. Shane worked at giving him the most pleasure he could manage, doing any trick that he could remember had worked on him and finally cupping Mike’s balls at the moment that Mike seemed to need it most. 

He’d forgotten, however, just how little he liked the sensation of cum in his mouth. The salty taste hitting his tongue and making him want to gag. He didn’t by some miracle and swallowed around the pulsing dick until it stopped. 

What little escaped Mike rubbed off with his thumb to Shane’s mouth, in an almost dazed like movement. Like he was touching Shane to make sure that it actually _was_ Shane. If it weren’t for the fact that Shane was swallowing over and over again to try and get the taste out of his mouth he might actually have done something to confirm to him that he was there. To comfort him. 

Mike slid down the wall, suddenly directly in front of him, his hands going from Shane’s mouth to cupping his face. He started with a pretty chaste kiss, then went deeper and Shane wanted to smile but the kiss wouldn’t let him. 

*

The next morning Shane woke up feeling like he’d just won the gold, again. He was so relaxed and happy it left him even more aware of where he’d been in the last few days. He heard the shower going, not too out of the ordinary, Mike liked to shower in the mornings when they were on the road and it _was_ getting mighty close to call time. 

Shane slipped out of bed, still fully naked from the night before and went into the bathroom with the brilliant idea of joining Mike in the shower. As soon as he put his feet in the bathroom though Mike turned off the water and stepped out with a fierce look his face. 

“It’s time for you to go back to your room, Doan.” 

Shane blinked at him slowly, crinkling his brow and throwing his arms out. “ **Doan**? DOAN? What’s with that?” 

Mike set his jaw, which looked fairly ridiculous with his hair wet and hanging around his face. “What does it sound like it means? It’s time for you to go. Now. Get your pants on. Do the walk of shame. Make some excuse if you need to but get to your room. Get your bag and go downstairs. Forget that this even happened.” 

“Mike, I thought we talked this out last…” 

Mike cut in, aggressively passing by Shane while tying a towel around his waist. “We didn’t talk much, did we? We did what we always did. And I let that happen. I’ll take my blame, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to let it keep going. Which is why you have to go. Right now.” 

Through the course of berating him, Mike tossed him his clothes and Shane listened while trying his best to catch his clothes. He wasn’t sure what the hell Mike was going on about. He thought they were on the same page here. They’d … well. They had talked. Sure it’d been mostly in between sex but that was just what had been happening. 

Shane had apologized, again and again. He’d told Mike he’d work on things. He’d _meant it_. Now just a few hours later Mike was acting like all they did was bone and somehow Shane was running out on him rather than Mike pushing him out. 

The worst was that the clock was very furiously showing him that he really had no time to put up a fight. He needed to have a certain amount of time to shove his stuff in his bag and he was sure as hell not going to get in trouble for being late. He was no Ovechkin and they were in the hunt, he couldn’t get benched. 

But … _Mike_. He made himself get dressed, while he watched Mike do the same. For once he was completely without words. His brain was searching for them, he knew that he _should_ be saying them. His inner Captain felt like he was breaking every single code by being able to communicate to his Goalie effectively. 

Then again, he’d never failed to work with his goalie effectively, he’d failed Mike. And maybe that was one of his big freaking problems that he had to fix. How he was expected to fix it right that moment was so far beyond him it was laughable. 

He finally slipped his shoes on, they hadn’t untied them so he didn’t even bother to try to untie and retie them, and looked Mike dead in the eye. 

“I don’t know what happened between last night and this morning but I meant every word I said, Mikey. Every word.” 

Mike’s eyes, instead of softening as he’d hoped… hell, as he’d _expected_ , went even colder were it possible. “Of course, Shane. You meant it. Last night. And I am sick of last nights and days afters.” 

“That isn’t what I meant at all…” 

“It **is** what I mean. Get out.” 

Shane’s eyes flicked to the clock and the last shreds of hope he had that he might be able to get any of this resolved before they got home was gone. He had barely enough time to get his ass into his hotel room, finish throwing the last vestiges of his stuff into his bag and get down stairs on time.

“This isn’t over,” he said and then turned to walk away. 

“Yes, it is,” he heard Mike say, just as soon as the door was almost closed. 

Something cold ran down his spine because it sounded so sure and final. It sounded like of all the things that had been said between them, Mike meant that more than anything.

* 

If he’d thought the first flight had been bad, it was nothing compared to being three rows away from Mike and knowing that Mike was hating not only Shane but himself for what had just happened. He’d seen it in his face as he passed Mike’s row. In Mikkel’s face as Shane had paused and tried to say something, _anything_ really to get the hollowness out of Mike’s eyes.

Not only had he failed to think of something, he had pissed off Murphy who asked why he was standing there like an idiot which just made things about ten times more awkward. He sat in his corner spot with his Team Canada hat dipped down low and headphones covering his ears. Somehow he’d gone from the best night he could remember to the shittiest day on record in the span of two hours. 

Were it not for the fact that it was before noon he would have ordered a beer. Even that just barely stopped him. (Now if Biz was still playing, it wouldn’t have even been in question.) 

* 

The days streamed forward like water. There were wins, there were losses, they were up in the standings, they slid down. At one point they almost were at LA’s heels and then one bad home stand screwed them up entirely. Three weeks went by in the drop of a hat. 

And all the while there was Mike. Mike who wouldn’t talk to, look at, or even address Shane even when it came to hockey. He had honed a skill of looking just past Shane’s shoulder when Shane would address the team and when he did have a question or a point he also addressed the whole crowd instead of Shane himself. 

Shane felt like he was quietly going insane. He felt like every action he did was a test and he was failing again and again. He’d finally given in to what he thought was his worst desperation and asked Oliver to help him but Oliver had just shook his head and said for the sanctity of his relationship with Mikkel he was not touching any of it with a hundred foot pole. 

(He added that he was completely Team Mike, which was just the cherry on that shit sundae.) 

So he sunk lower. Antoine and Martin were both the kind of married that meant that they were smug and over-satisfied. Which, having met both of their wives, Shane couldn’t fault them. He thought their wives were nuts to be with them but who was he to judge really? 

Asking for their help was basically asking workout advice from a Crossfitter. He almost packed snacks. 

Instead he waited until after practice and after they’d all had gotten ready to ask the two guys to stay back for a quick talk about work. 

“Why isn’t Oliver here?” Antoine asked, before the door to the small office he’d swiped was closed. “I feel like Oliver should be here.” 

“Oliver doesn’t want to be here,” Shane snapped, which was entirely dumb because Hanzal looked at him like his head was shaped wrong. 

“We are not moving Oliver.” 

It was a declarative sentence, pure and simple. Which, while comforting and true was entirely besides the point, because if they were going to move Oliver he would have no real say in the matter. He pinched the bridge of his nose. 

“This has nothing to do with hockey, okay?” 

He looked up just in time to see them exchanging a look that was a cross between self satisfied and annoyed and he was… already exhausted by the conversation and it hadn’t even happened yet. He almost wished he could go back and ask Murphs and Rieder. 

“You going to finally explain why you’ve been acting like a teenager and Mike has addressed you exactly once in a month?” Martin asked. 

Shane sat in an empty chair. “It’s been that obvious?” 

Antoine laughed. He freaking _laughed_ and put his hand out on Shane’s shoulder. “You are as subtle as a bull in a China shop, Doaner.” 

“I think the rookies have a bet going,” Martin chirped. “Something about parents getting divorced and who’s Christmas they’d have to go to.” 

Bag skates for all of them tomorrow. Till they freaking dropped. 

“What did you do, Shane?” Antoine’s voice was lower now and he had gotten a chair to sit across from him. 

Shane debated on whether or not to tell the whole story but instead tried to stick to the bullet points. It didn’t seem fair to Mike in the long run if he told them everything. As time had gone by he could look back and see all the faults that were laid in that foundation and how it was mostly him who had been responsible. 

So he kept to the parts that he thought relevant, making a point to add in the parts where he was an inadvertent jerk and leave out the bits where he thought he’d been on the same level as Mike because whether he knew it or not at the time he was hurting Mike which was one hundred and ten percent not his goal. 

While Martin stayed mostly still through the whole talk and just nodded at random points, Antoine seemed to slowly but surely be easing himself down into his chair with his hand over his face. By the time he finished Antoine was almost entirely horizontal and looking at the roof like he was praying for God to give him some guidance here. 

(Too late for that, Shane had tried that in spades. No answer.) 

“Okay,” Antoine said, pushing himself up and back into a seated position. “You are telling me that you and Mike have been … screwing around… for _years_ and you told him he was asking for too much to expect a genuine relationship?” 

Shane frowned, that wouldn’t be how he wanted to explain it but it was pretty succinct. He put his hand on one of his cheeks and scratched at some stubble, nodding. 

“Mon Dieu,” Antoine groaned. “You are aware you are the oldest on the team, correct?” 

Shane leveled a glare at him. 

“No, Shane,” Martin butted in. “If Domi told me the same story about he and Duke I would tell him to nut up or shut up. He’s half your age.”

“No he is not!” Shane pointed out. The age jokes were wearing thin.

“Strome could be your kid.” 

“I was trying to get _help_ here, guys.” 

Martin looked at Antoine who tilted his head in the way he always did during conversations. Neither one of them said a single word for a long minute and Shane would almost make the Married Conversation joke but it wasn’t worth the trouble at the moment and it might derail the opportunity to actually get to the point that he needed to get to, which was _fixing this_. 

“You majorly fucked up three times,” Antoine said, after a considerable amount of silence. 

Shane blinked. “Three?” 

“Well,” Martin took over. “The initial epic one, then by not fixing it in the first place and then by thinking a rebound fuck was going to do something to make it all better.” 

“It was not a rebound fuck…” 

“ _It was a rebound fuck_ ,” they said in unison. 

Martin hummed. “No wonder Mike has looked like someone had kicked his puppy the last few weeks. Jesus, Doaner. I could see this from Murphs, Duke, or even Harry, but you? You are the dad of the team. Is this one of those middle age crisis Americans go on about?” 

“Mid life crisis, and _no_ ,” he groaned. “Maybe. I don’t know.” 

Antoine nodded. “Okay. You want to fix this right?” 

Shane raised an eyebrow at him. “Why the heck would I call you in here and put myself in this position?” 

“You are going to need to do some serious begging here,” Martin said, and Shane had a horrifying moment where he thought Martin meant begging THEM for help and his whole body was trying to deny it but he would probably beg them. He was getting that desperate. Thankfully Martin continued. “I think you flew past ‘I’m sorry I was an idiot can you ever forgive me?’ plus flowers territory like two years ago.” 

“Mike is a guy, if I got him flowers he would one hundred percent punch me in the nuts,” Shane sighed. Maybe he should have tried harder with Oliver. 

“Well, ‘I’m sorry that I was an idiot’ with a good blow job? I don’t know. I have very little experience with my wife being the fuck up.” 

Shane let out a dry laugh, because the image of Lenka ever having to apologize to Martin for anything was kind of brilliant in it’s own way. He looked at Antoine but Antoine seemed to be imagining the blowjob instead because his face was contorted in horror. 

(He would say straight men were weird but he fully understood. The idea of going down on a girl would make his face do the same thing.) 

“So begging,” he brought the conversation back on track. “I thought I’d done that. I said I was sorry. I told him I missed him.” 

Antoine smacked at him. “It doesn’t count during sex, Doaner. Nothing counts during sex. Trust me, I had to propose four times in one day.” 

“Were you rabbits?” Martin blinked at him.

Antoine just looked at him like he was waiting for Martin to say something that needed an answer. 

“So I’m going to be begging?” Shane interjected. 

Antoine turned towards him. “Not just begging. This is going to have to be something to prove to him you aren’t just interested in getting your dick wet, so to speak. You need to tell him what you want, and let him know what you want.” 

“In public,” Martin added and then paused before either could jump in. “Just the guys. Not _You Can Play_ guys.” 

Shane could feel himself going pale. It was kind of like every nightmare he’d ever had of showing up to the rink naked manifesting in real life. He looked down at his hands and breathed in as deeply as he could. 

It did, in a way, make decent sense. One of the things that seemed to hurt Mike was that he was being treated like a dirty thing used for one thing. Saying it out loud, to the group without being able to wiggle out of it. He would be saying it and whatever he said he would have to mean. 

“Who’s to say he would listen?” Shane offered. Antoine rolled his eyes at him like a teenager. 

“He’ll listen if you don’t pussy out.” 

He knew very well that he was being baited.

He also knew he was going to take that bait.

*

Shane Doan was the longest running Captain of a team in the NHL, a fact that he would always be pretty freaking proud of and not since his first season as captain had he felt stage fright in front of the locker room. Even during the worst periods, the hardest games, nor when he had to talk about the lock out. (Which was pretty gut wrenching, it was like losing the Stanley in a race you weren’t allowed to even play.) 

Standing there in the front he felt pretty much like he was going crazy. His palms were essentially so wet with sweat they coated his sweater each time that he tried to dry them. His stomach was in such knots that he thought he was going to ralph, which would be really lovely. 

To make matters truly embarrassing Martin had gotten everyone’s attention by whistling so it wasn’t even the usual hustle and noise that might actually calm him down. Instead it was dead quiet, filled with his teammates eyes looking at him diligently. 

“Uh,” he said, and he was pretty sure it wasn’t even the first time. 

Murphy looked at him and honest to goodness raised his hand. “Yo Cap, you got something to say or we just meant to bask in your beauty?” 

A few laughs around the room, but from behind him Martin made a noise and it quieted down. 

“Sorry about that,” Shane said, and cleared his throat. He braved looking at Mike, who looked at him with the same bewilderment as the rest. Which, come to think of it was a nice change from the anger that had been there of late. “I’ve got to get something out there.” 

Mike’s eyebrows went up and he almost looked a little scared but Shane couldn’t stop if he had started. 

“I’ve been a bad Captain for the last few months to you all, longer for one of you. And a bad friend to you all as well.” 

He heard the room make a few noises of disagreement, but he was looking at Mike and he wasn’t going to break contact for fear of him making a break for it even if it meant acknowledging his friends. Even with eye contact Mike looked like he might actually do it even with him watching on. 

“I’ve been lying to you. A lot. I’ve been keeping things to myself because I thought that it would make it easier and painless. And in the process it might have been easier for me for a long while, but not painless at all.” 

He swallowed, thought longingly of his water bottle somewhere behind him in his locker and tried to collect his thoughts in the quickest way possible. He felt Martin nudge him a little with his shoulder and he knew it was not a nudge of encouragement but more of a “move along, pussy” one. 

“Mikey and I have been … dating for a few years.” 

He broke eye contact this time, looked around the room and was weirded out to see the nonplussed looks on most peoples’ faces. 

(Except for Mikkel who looked smug as hell and Oliver who looked like he might actually be doing a happy dance in his head.) 

“Is this where we are told some new information?” Duke called out and then added. “Fuck, ow, that actually hurt, fucker.” 

Another round of laughter, this time more of an uncomfortable titter than actually laughs but it allowed a chance Shane to exhale.

“I … uh. I was apparently the last one to know, then,” he wiped at his face with both hands, regretting it with the feel of moisture on his skin. “It would have been killer to be clued in before Mike broke up with me.” 

The room went dead quiet, and the bulk of the eyes went straight to Mike. Shane took a deep breath in and counted his exhale before he got the nerve up to look. Mike was staring at him, jaw opened and both hands holding back his hair. He looked pale, like he might vomit or bolt or both. Shane wouldn’t blame him, he was fighting the urge to do it himself. 

Finally Mike stood up and disturbingly quietly walked up to Shane and said in a low voice. “Follow me.” 

As if he didn’t trust Shane, which he probably didn’t, he took him by the forearm and dragged him out of the locker room and down the hallway.

“Mike…” Shane started. 

Mike turned back and leveled a glare so deadly that Shane stopped causing his arm to be yanked forward again. He stayed quiet though, as he was dragged down to an open room and the door was closed behind them. Mike chucked him at a chair and when Shane sat down he finally let go of him. Shane rubbed where Mike had been holding, the grip causing a big red mark with identifiable finger indents. 

He almost started to say something again but thought better of it. Instead he watched as Mike paced back and forth in front of him, occasionally looking at him, muttering something and then going back to pacing. He wasn’t sure if this was a step in the right direction or a leap twenty feet back, though he was almost thankful just to be near to him and alone. It was a first in a while. 

“What the FUCK was that Shane?” Mike said, finally, stopping directly in front of Shane and then taking a few steps back. 

“What did it look like?” Shane asked, his voice as steady as he could keep it. 

Mike gaped at him a little, ran his hands through his hair and then frowned. “It looked like you telling the ENTIRE locker room that we had been fucking for the last few years. It looked like you thinking that the best choice was to lie to them.” 

“What do you mean _lie to them_?” 

“I didn’t break up with you, you dumb fuck. To break up with someone requires some sort of relationship, an actual set of boundaries and rules. What I did was just end your booty call rights.” 

He’d been expecting something along those lines but it still stung. He took in a sharp breath. “Okay, look. I messed up. I was an idiot who didn’t see the forest for the trees. I get that. I’ll take the responsibility for that. But you wouldn’t even give me a chance to be in shouting distance to you, let alone talk to you. How else was I supposed to get your attention?” 

“A note? A call? Freaking morse code?” 

“I _did_ call you, I suspect you deleted the messages. You would have ripped up a note. I would’ve learned morse code if I thought it would work.” Shane said, looking down at his hands. “I couldn’t reach you. I was going crazy, so I did something crazy.” 

Mike choked on a laugh. “Understatement, Doan. That is called a HUGE understatement.” 

Shane looked up at him and something caught in his throat. He was talking to him. Yeah, it wasn’t the best conversation they’d ever had, but it was a conversation. One that was two ways. He wanted to laugh because the fact was that being yelled at by Mike was the best he’d felt in months. It didn’t seem like it would go over the right way though, so he kept it to himself. 

“Okay.” 

Shane tilted his head. “Okay what?” 

“You have my attention Captain,” Mike spread his arms out. “So speak.” 

He resisted the urge to bark, just to see if he could get a real laugh out of Mike. Instead he licked his lips and swallowed around the lump. He’d been thinking about this moment for two weeks and yet it was here and … nothing came to mind. 

“I swear to fuck Shane, if you just embarrassed me in front of my team for nothing I am going to dick punch you hard enough that you taste pee.” 

Shane closed his eyes and sighed before opening them back up again. “Okay, okay. I just. You got to give me a minute. I … I didn’t really think I’d get this far. I figured you’d bail on me when I first started talking to the guys to be honest.” 

“You didn’t give me that option,” Mike retorted and looked at his watch. “You’ve got five minutes. Then I have to go face my _friends_ who are probably talking about us right the hell now. So feel free to use them how you want to, but I would start talking pretty damn quick.” 

He could feel the adrenaline pumping in his veins, figured that if he was going to go he might as well go for broke. “Look. I love you. I really really love you. And I know you think that that is a lie, because I’ve treated you like shit for years. I’ve used you and I let myself believe this giant story that it was all a comfort thing and maybe that was true for a while… But that was a long time ago. And even then I was wrong. 

“You are the guy who listens to me and who understands me. You don’t just let me get away with crap most of the time, you call me on it. I trust you with things I don’t trust others with. Even just losing you as a friend has made these last few weeks the most miserable of my life. I want you to know that. If nothing else… god… If nothing else I would just be happy to be friends again. To have that back would be amazing.”

Mike was staring at him but with curiosity rather than anger. He stood up so they were almost eye to eye. 

“But I want more than that, Mikey. If all you can give is friendship, that is what I want. If you want to be in a relationship, that is what I want. I want everything you are willing to give and I swear to God I _want to give you everything_. I will be the sappiest, loudest, craziest person ever. I will come out if you want me to. I will go down on my knees for you. I will beg. Whatever you want, Mikey. Whatever you want.

“Just please, give me a second chance. Let me start this over again.” 

He watched with an ache in his chest at Mike seemed to consider his words. It couldn’t have been more than sixty seconds but it felt eternal, the way he was forced to just wait. Mike looked down and then back up at him, then looked away again. Shane could almost feel the inevitable punch to the gut of Mike telling him he wanted nothing. He tried to brace himself for it by looking down at Mike’s feet.

“I could probably be okay with you going to your knees,” Mike said, voice serious, but when Shane’s eyes darted upwards Mike had a sly smile on his face. 

“You… you would?” 

Mike put a hand over his mouth. “You dumb fuck. You complete dumb fuck.” 

Shane swallowed and took a tentative step forward. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” Mike said and grabbed him by the back of the neck, bringing him into a fierce kiss. 

They pulled apart and Shane felt completely light headed. He was sure that this was a win on his behalf but then again he had thought that in the past. Mike took a step back and Shane felt like the air had been sucked from his lungs. 

“Hi,” Mike put his hand out … for a handshake? “The name’s Mike.” 

Shane stared at Mike’s hand for a second. “Mikey, what the hell are you…” 

“The name is _Mike_ ,” he grabbed Shane’s hand. “And you are?” 

_Confused_ , was his first thought but he figured he’d take this for face value and see where it went. 

“I’m Shane?” 

Mike’s face split into a grin and he nodded his head. “Nice to meet you, Shane.” 

“Nice… to meet you.” 

Mike turned one ear closer to him and waggled his eyebrows, finally leaning in to stage whisper. “This is where you ask me out, dumb ass.” 

A second chance. He was giving him a second chance. He felt his hand tingle where there skin still touched, felt his stomach do that weird flip thing it did when he drove over hills too fast back home, he grinned and it almost hurt his face. 

“Want to go out to dinner sometime? Maybe see a movie?” 

“Sounds good to me,” Mike shrugged. 

Shane went into kiss him again because… well. He wanted to. He wanted to more than he had ever wanted to before, but Mike shoved him back. 

“Hey hey hey, I’m not that kind of girl, Shane.” 

“Is that so?” 

Mike nodded. “Three dates, minimum. Then maybe I’ll put out… Maybe.” 

Then Mike turned around and walked out of the room, most likely going back to the locker room. (Which should be fun, honestly.) 

Shane stayed a minute and tried to figure out how he could fit in three dates as fast as humanly possible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is cinderlily's chapter, and as I AM cinderlily, thank you so much for letting me play in your sandbox sly_fck. Also thanks LuciFern for betaing both of our fics. <3 Any mistakes are still ours though. <3 <3


End file.
